Caraval (Caraval, #1)(49)

She barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone walk all the way back to the inn. When she woke, she’d have to choose between finding her sister—or leaving to make it back to Trisda in time for her wedding. Scarlett knew it might come down to this, but she wasn’t ready to make the choice yet. And what would Julian do if he returned to their room and found her dead body?

“Scarlett!” Aiko shook her again. “You need to stay alive until you make it to safety.” She pushed Scarlett toward the door and shoved a sugar cube inside her mouth. “So you’ll have the strength. Don’t stop walking no matter what.”

Scarlett’s leaden legs quaked with lines of sweat. She could barely stand; she wouldn’t make it back. Aiko’s sugar had dissolved into rot in her mouth. “Why can’t you walk with me?”

“I have places I need to be,” said Aiko. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. When someone takes days of your life, your body dies, but your mind exists in a sort of dream world. Unless your body is destroyed.”

Again, Scarlett tried to ask what would happen in that case, but her words came out garbled, as if she’d bitten them into pieces before spitting them out. She swore the whites of Aiko’s eyes shifted to black as she said, “You’ll be fine as long as you make it back to your room. I’ll find you in the dream world and show you my book.”

“But”—Scarlett swayed—“I usually forget my dreams.”

“This you will remember.” Aiko steadied her, and thrust another sugar cube into her mouth. “But you must promise not to tell anyone. Now”—Aiko gave Scarlett a final shove as she put the cherry-blossom dress in her hands—“get out of here before you die.”





20

Scarlett would remember only one thing clearly about her journey from the dress shop. She would not remember her limbs feeling as light as feathers, her bones turning to dust, or either of her attempts to lie down in the boats. She would not remember being prodded out of those same boats, or dropping her cherry-blossom gown. Though she would recall the young man who picked it up, and then took her arm to help her walk the rest of the way back to La Serpiente.

The words uselessly pretty came to mind, though as she looked up at her attractive companion, his face no longer looked quite so pretty. Hard lines and harsh angles highlighted dark eyes shadowed by even darker hair.

This person did not like her. She not only knew it, she could feel it in the rough way he handled her. The way he held on to her arm as she attempted to pull away.

“Let me go!” she tried to yell. But her voice was feeble, and the passersby who might have heard were too busy scurrying to their own snake holes. A quarter of an hour was all that remained until the sun rose and erased the magic of the night.

“If I let you go, you’ll just crawl into another boat.” Dante dragged her through La Serpiente’s rounded back door. Noise from the tavern circled around them. Mugs of cider clinking against glass tables. Snorts of amusement mixed with grunts of satisfaction, and groaned tales of things unsatisfying.

Only a sharp-looking gentleman with an eye patch and a crimson cravat noticed her being dragged onto a set of stairs, where the air darkened and the noise quieted. Later Scarlett would remember him watching, but just then her main concern was escaping from Dante.

“Please,” Scarlett begged. “I need to get to my room.”

“First we need to talk.” Dante cornered her in the stairwell, long legs and tattooed arms boxing her against the wall.

“If this is about the other day … I’m sorry.” It took what felt like all of Scarlett’s strength to force the words out coherently. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“This isn’t about your lies,” Dante said. “I know people lie in this game. Yesterday—” He broke off, sounding as if it were a struggle to keep his tone even. “I was upset because I thought you were different. This game, it changes people.”

“I know,” Scarlett said, “that’s why I need to get to my room.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Dante’s voice hardened, and for a rare moment of terrifying clarity, Scarlett could see he’d fallen apart even more than the last time she’d seen him. His eyes were lined in dark shadows as if he hadn’t slept in days. “My sister is missing; you have to help me find her. I know your sister is missing too, and I don’t think it’s just a part of this game.”

No. Scarlett couldn’t be hearing this now. Tella’s disappearance was simply another magic trick. Dante was trying to frighten her. Hadn’t Julian said he’d been cruel to win the game before? “I can’t talk about this right now.”

She needed to make it back to her room. It no longer mattered if it was Julian’s for the night. She could not die right there. Not in front of Dante, as crazed as he was. Somehow she managed to pull her dress from his hands. “Why don’t we meet in the tavern—after we’ve both gotten some sleep?”

“You mean after you die for two days?” Dante’s hand formed a fist against the wall. “I know what’s happening to you. I can’t lose another night! My sister is gone and you—”

Smack!

Before he could get another word out, Dante flew backward. Scarlett didn’t fully see the blow, but it was enough to knock him halfway down the stairs.